


a small price to pay for your smile

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aromantic, Caedromantic Maedhros, Caedsexual Maedhros, Consent, Demiromantic Fingon, Demisexual Fingon, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Romantic/Sexual Relationship, Queer Elves, Queerplatonic Relationships, Recovery, Relationship Negotiation, Self-Esteem Issues, Sex Repulsion, Soul Bond, Tolkien Gen Week 2020, Trauma, Trauma-Affected Sexuality, Unconditional Love, aro love, aromantic asexual maedhros, platonic intimacy, romance repulsion, thinly veiled kintsugi metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25144591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: After Angamando, Maitimo believes he cannot love Findekáno any longer, but Finno is determined to help him see there is more to love than what Maitimo has lost.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno & Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 23
Kudos: 66
Collections: Anna's A-spectrum Anthology, Tolkien Gen Week 2020





	a small price to pay for your smile

**Author's Note:**

> For [Tolkien Gen Week](http://tolkiengenweek.tumblr.com/) 2020, Day 3: Grey Spaces.
> 
> Thanks to [Mayim](http://himrings.tumblr.com/) for being my sounding board for these ideas, ily <3
> 
> So this is not my usual take on Russingon, I will admit! But I adore all kinds of queerplatonic love/relationships, and you bet your ass I’m gonna find a way to project my aro feelings onto my favs :D
> 
> I’m actually quite nervous about posting this; I’ve written arospec Russingon before but it’s still been romantic? And this is...Not That.
> 
> It’s hard to tag QPRs; I used both the & and / symbols for their relationship, but really it’s somewhere in between. This is for TGW’s “gray spaces” day, which I included specifically with QP content in mind...and yet I tagged the fic with M/M and not gen. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ It’s Complicated!
> 
> So I want to be clear from the beginning: this is a Russingon fic. Maedhros and Fingon are both very queer and queer specifically for each other. But this is a story about their relationship as it changes after the rescue from Angband; they used to be in a romantic/sexual relationship but they’re transitioning to something different, because Maedhros is [caedsexual/romantic](https://lgbta.wikia.org/wiki/Caedsexual). So this isn’t your traditionally romo Russingon fic, but it’s certainly not a “no slash” Maedhros & Fingon fic either.
> 
> I realize this is probably alienating everyone in the fandom except for me and like, the three other aros, but! I loved writing this fic and it means a lot to me, so if you want to read on, I hope you enjoy it <3
> 
> **Content warnings:** implied/referenced rape, massive amounts of internalized aphobia, extremely low self-worth, frank but non-graphic discussion/memory of past sex
> 
> Also, some quick disclaimers: 1. I am not a trauma survivor myself so I apologize if I handled something poorly; 2. Every aro and ace spectrum experience is different, and I am in no way implying that all aspecs have trauma as a reason for our orientation(s); and 3. I didn’t really get into it in the fic but if you are an aro who doesn’t experience any kind of love that’s just as valid and deserving of respect as Mae’s experience here.

He woke with Findekáno by his side. He tensed, then forced himself to relax. This was Findekáno, who would not hurt him; Findekáno, who had rescued him. As hard as it was to believe, he was _safe_.

But while Findekáno's presence was comforting, in a way, it was also perplexing. Surely he had better things to do than sitting in a chair across from Maitimo's sickbed. He did not curl up with Maitimo as he once might have, he only...sat there, watching him.

"You're awake," Findekáno murmured.

Maitimo struggled to sit upright. Findekáno reached forward, but Maitimo shook his head: he would do this on his own, though it was harder without his dominant hand.

"You slept through supper," Findekáno said. "I can bring some food to you..."

"I'm not hungry." It wasn't exactly true—Maitimo hadn't eaten since early in the morning, when a healer had forced some porridge down his throat—but he did not want to impose on Findekáno any more than he already had. And he'd gone longer stretches of time without food before; this was nothing.

Findekáno blinked as if he didn't quite believe him, but he didn't press the matter. "Did you sleep alright?"

Maitimo grimaced. "I don't remember the last time I slept alright." Even back in Valinórë he'd never been good at forgetting his troubles for long.

Findekáno sighed, but before he could loose his pity upon him, Maitimo blurted out, "Why are you still here? With me, in this room? Why have you not found something better to do?"

"Why am I..." Findekáno stared, mouth open slightly. "Why am I still here?"

"Yes."

"Because I love you," he said, so earnestly Maitimo couldn't bear to look at him.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Findekáno had proved that this was real, that it truly was him, that Maitimo had indeed been rescued, but with such words coming from his lips, after all Maitimo had done...it was things like this that made him doubt his sense of reality once more.

"Russo..." Findekáno trailed off. Maitimo opened his eyes a crack, catching a glimpse of the concern writ across his handsome features. "Do you really think I would leave you now?"

"You are too good for me," Maitimo whispered. "I do not deserve your love."

Findekáno rose from his chair, sitting at the foot of the bed. He scooted closer to Maitimo, holding out his arms, hesitating before an embrace. "May I...?"

Maitimo flinched. If Findekáno touched him now, like this...that would burn worse than the Oath, worse than the Valaraukar's whips, he thought. But if for some reason Findekáno wanted to hold him, he deserved to have his desires fulfilled.

"I...yes," he mumbled, bowing his head, tensing in preparation for contact.

Findekáno didn't move. "Are you certain it's alright?" he asked gently. "I don't want to force you. Only if you want to."

"You deserve more than what I want," Maitimo said bluntly.

Findekáno leaned away, anguish in his eyes. He clasped his hands together, a clear statement: _I will not touch you._ And even though Maitimo did not want to be touched, it stung.

"No, Russo," he said. "If you don't want me to hold you, then I don't want it either. It would not be right."

"I'm sorry." The words were sour on his tongue; in Angamando they were pointless, fruitless, only leading to more punishment. But this was not Angamando, this was Mithrim, and Findekáno _deserved_ his apologies. He deserved so much more, but this was something Maitimo could give him now.

"I don't want you to be sorry with me," Findekáno said. He was so _tender_ , it hurt. "I want you to be honest. I want you to heal. I want you to be _you_ again—or not _again_ , but to be the you whom you will find yourself as when you recover. I want to love you in every way I can."

And that was the problem, wasn't it? Maitimo huffed softly. He was not himself, and never would be. Whatever creature he reassembled himself back into was a pale shadow of the thing Findekáno thought he loved.

 _Love_ , that damning word. Love, what Findekáno deserved more than anyone. Love, which Maitimo could not give him.

"I am not the same nér who loved you," Maitimo said.

At this Findekáno flinched. Maitimo regretted his words instantly, wanted to take them back and swallow them down and pretend he had never said them—but they were true. _Loved_. Past tense.

His heart had been stopped and broken and twisted to beat again, and yet he still ached with longing for something he could not have. Gone were the days of bliss in Valinórë when they found pleasure in each other's hröar; gone was the sticky-sweet thrill of a forbidden romance. Maitimo searched for those feelings in the hollow cavity of his chest and could not find them where they once had been.

It was torment to hear Findekáno pour out his soul and know that he could not echo that same love back at him. Findekáno deserved that love, deserved more and better than anything Maitimo could give him, more and better than whatever shallow intimacy he could muster in this diminished form.

Maitimo forced himself to continue. The least he could do was _explain_.

"I—they took it from me, in Angamando," he rasped. "My...my love for you. I cannot explain it in full, it is too terrible to relive, but... They used you against me, again and again."

With every word he saw Findekáno flinch like he had been struck. But Maitimo had to tell him, had to make him understand that he was not doing this on purpose, that he did not _want_ to hurt him.

"You know I did not believe you to be real at first, until you proved it with your fëa. They could never mimic that." Maitimo pressed the stump of his right hand to his heart, remembering that blazing warmth so long absent from his soul, shocking him to his core and bringing hope to him like the first rising of the Sun. It had delivered him, more than the Eagle had, and yet the feeling had been brief and burning.

"But your face, your voice, your body...they took my memories of you and they hurt me with it every way they could imagine. _Every_ way," he emphasized, and Findekáno paled as he realized what he meant. "It is said that the Eldar cannot endure such torments—but that is not true. I endured it, no matter how I wished to die. But then again..." He smiled bitterly, the newly-healed scars over his lips stinging in protest. "I am barely an Elda any longer."

"I know," Findekáno said softly. "What—what you endured, I mean. At least...I had guessed."

"I do not love you," Maitimo said, though what remained of his heart bled to say it. "I _cannot_. It—that I cannot give you what you desire, what you deserve—every ounce of myself, everything we once had and hoped for...that is the greatest torment of all."

Tears budded in Findekáno's eyes, and still Maitimo spoke on, hurting him who deserved it least with his every word. "In a way, it was better there, where I could not see your grief and disappointment and heartbreak. Now you see the wretched thing I have become."

"Russandol," Findekáno choked out. "I love you."

Maitimo clenched his fist. " _I know_ ," he croaked. "And that is the worst thing. You love me, and I do not love you."

" _Yes_ , you do," Findekáno said, desperate, hoping.

Maitimo laughed, a sound like shattered glass. "Have you heard a word of what I just said, Findekáno? I used to love you, to be _in love_ with you, to want you, desire you, need you, hunger for you, yearn for you—but all that is _gone_ now, and a void is where it once was. Do not try to convince me otherwise!"

"Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol Fëanárion," Findekáno snapped, "do not sit before me and tell me that is all there is to love!"

Maitimo fell silent, shocked. Findekáno had never taken this tone with him before, not since their last argument in Aman. But a flame was lit in his once-beloved's eyes that was not born simply of anger or hurt, and it brought Maitimo equal measures of shame and hope. He felt more alive now than he had in months. Years.

"Do you love your brothers?" Findekáno demanded. When Maitimo did not respond he prompted, "Well? Do you?"

"...Yes," Maitimo admitted. Even when they didn't deserve it.

"Your mother?" Findekáno asked. "Do you miss her?"

"Yes." Of course he did. He wished he'd stayed behind with her, with Findekáno, that they could still be whole and happy...

"Your father. Do you love _him_?"

Maitimo ground his teeth. "Damn it, _yes_ , though I know I shouldn't—"

"Then you love me," Findekáno said simply. "You are capable of love, clearly. And your care for me, your guilt over what you can and cannot give me—that is love, Russo."

"It's not the same," Maitimo whispered. "It's not what we had. Not what you deserve."

"Russo, my Russo..." Findekáno reached over. "I want to...to run my fingers through your hair. May I?"

The hollowness inside him was filling up, Maitimo realized, but with an uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling he could not name. He nodded.

"Are you sure?" Findekáno asked.

"Yes. It's alright." He meant it this time, too. The thought eased some tension within him; Findekáno's touch might burn him, but he needed to feel _something_.

Findekáno sighed and brushed his scalp. There was no burn, only a flood of relief. He had _missed_ this. Maitimo shivered, leaning into the touch, until he rested his head on Findekáno's lap and let the slow and gentle motion of his fingers lull him into tranquility.

"Do you believe me now?" Findekáno murmured. "That you love me still?"

"...Not enough," Maitimo mumbled. Not the _right way_.

"But you do love me." Findekáno's lips brushed the tip of his ear. "Can I kiss you here?"

"Mm...if you want."

"Do _you_ want?"

Maitimo closed his eyes, knowing the answer and wishing he didn't. "...No."

"Then I will not." He paused. "Please, Russandol. If you love me...I want to hear it."

"I don't—" he protested— "not like—"

"If you love me in _any_ way, Russo." His voice cracked. "That is all I ask. Please. I...I want to hear it."

Maitimo breathed deep, gathering what strength he had. _In any way,_ he had said. Was he right, that this guilt and shame and emptiness and whatever strange knot of feeling that squirmed beneath his breastbone was still some form of _love_ , even if not the right kind?

There was only one way to find out. Maitimo could always pick out a lie, in others and himself. It was a gift inherited from his mother, one that drove Þauron the Deceiver to craft new and better falsehoods out of the threads of truth. He would have to say the words, to know if he meant them; he would have to open his heart and examine it, as he had not before when he insisted he had become loveless.

"...I love you," he whispered, and looked to see if it was true.

Tears pricked at his eyes, his spirit bursting with the truth: _he meant it_ , he did, he loved his Finno still, and with that discovery his feelings burst out of him like a broken dam and he _felt_ them again. It astonished him, how much care and concern he had for Findekáno, that his gratitude was not solely a thing of debt and despair but of awe and adoration. It was a different shade of love, a different melody, but it was _there_ , hiding from him but now found, and his broken-mended heart overflowed with it.

He felt Finno's fëa brush up against his own, and Maitimo grasped hold of it, barely aware that he was sobbing. He felt Finno's warmth, the gentleness, the strength that was so uniquely _him_ , and it flooded his being. It was the same bright love he'd felt before, when they'd been intimate—only it was different, also, and this _was_ intimacy, even if it was not sexual, not romantic. He _knew_ Findekáno and knew that Findekáno knew him, and he could barely breathe with all the knowing, all the _loving_ with an intensity he hadn't believed he still could love.

"I love you," he babbled, "Findekáno, I love you, I don't know where I would be without you, _who_ I would be, you _saved_ me in every way and you're still here, you still love me and want me and—and need me, even though my heart beats different now, and I love you I love you I love you and I don't know how or why but I _do_."

Finno wept also, cradling him close—and Maitimo let him know it was alright, through their bond so recently renewed, and it felt _good_ , it felt _right_ in a way it hadn't before—but when Findekáno leaned down to kiss him, he froze.

Findekáno stopped immediately, drawing back. "I'm sorry," he said.

"It's not _you_ who should apologize," Maitimo whispered.

"I don't want to...push you," Finno said. "To ask anything of you that you are not willing to give."

"I don't think...I don't think I can anymore," Maitimo admitted. "I love you—" the words tasted heavenly on his tongue; he couldn't believe he'd denied himself that simple, eternal truth for so long— "but I can't...kiss you. Or make love to you. Bind myself to you more than I am now. I...don't know if I'll ever be able to."

( _You deserve that, all of it,_ he did not say. He could feel now that Finno _truly cared_ about what _he_ wanted, what _he_ deserved, and it was not his self-pity.)

"That's alright." And with a brush of affection, running his fingers through Maitimo's hair and beginning to weave a simple braid into it, he told Maitimo with more than words that he _meant it_. It _was_ alright.

"I don't understand," Maitimo confessed. "I know why _I_ need different things...less of what we once had...but why is it alright for _you_?"

"Russandol," Finno said, and smiled. "I love _you_. I don't love kissing, or sex, or holding your hand—"

"Good, because you have made that rather difficult," Maitimo murmured.

"Hush, you silly nér." Finno tweaked his ear gently. "I don't love dressing you up and dressing you down, or the thrill of hiding in plain sight, or pushing at all the limits of our hröar. Those things are _nice_ , they're _fun_ , I _like_ them—but what I _love_ is _you_."

His fingers brushed against Maitimo's cheek. He wanted to give him a kiss there, Maitimo could feel through their bond, but he did not, and denying himself that simple gesture sent no flash of grief through him; the caress was enough.

"I love you no matter what," Finno continued. "I want you to be happy no matter _how_. I will be happy if you are happy, and if that means things between us are not the same as they once were, that is a small price to pay for your smile."

Maitimo reddened, his whole body flushed with warmth, with affection. In the past such a declaration of undying, unconditional love might have gone straight to his cock, he might have pounced on his once-lover and devoured him, showed him physically everything he couldn't put into words—but he didn't feel those things anymore. Words would have to suffice: and yet he was speechless, utterly overwhelmed by the depth and intensity of his Finno's love.

"Russo, you are the _only_ person I have ever loved like this," Finno murmured, adding even more to the warmth that blazed between them. "I always have, even before my hröa knew such a thing as desire. I loved you wholly, with my entire soul. It is your fëa I love, in every way I can—and I will not pretend I do not desire your body even still, yes, even despite your scars and pains, but being with you is more than enough to bring me joy. To have you back, here with me, when I thought I had lost you forever...that is a blessing and a gift I will cherish always.

"There has never been another I wanted to kiss or fuck. It was you, Russo, only you. And you know very well that it was not _always_ that way!" Finno laughed, his amusement tickling Maitimo through their bond, and he laughed too. "You came to me first, and the emptiness that is inside you now was in me then! It is a familiar guest in my heart, do not worry. It took time, and closeness, and trust and love and a deep bond between us before those desires came to me."

He tied the end of the braid in Maitimo's hair and started on another one. "Do you remember when I first reciprocated those feelings, the first time I kissed you back? The first time I took you inside of me and gave you my entire being?"

"Yes," Maitimo said, and though he had no wish to do so again, he recalled the joy and relief he had felt then.

He had yearned to be closer to Findekáno, and Finno knew that. Their relationship had always been intense, and intensely close, but in truth the more perceptive of his brothers teased him about Findekáno for years before they consummated their love. The waiting had been tense for him, but he had been prepared to wait forever, for Finno's sake.

 _What if I never love you the way you want?_ Finno had asked one vulnerable night, his face buried in Maitimo's chest, both of them fully clothed. _It's not fair to you._

 _You can only ever love me in a way I want,_ Maitimo had said fiercely, cradling him close, never wanting to let him go. Yes, there were times where he had to leave and take care of himself when his desire for Findekáno became too much, but he would always come back, and he would never dream of forcing Finno into anything he did not wholeheartedly want as much as he did. Their friendship was too dear to him already.

And when something _had_ changed, when Findekáno came to him one night with a new fire in his eyes and pressed him against the wall of his bedroom and kissed him, devoured him like he never wanted to stop—when he demanded Maitimo take him, and sobbed with the ecstasy of it, and then begged for his own turn—Maitimo had wept with joy and known every heartbeat of waiting had been more than worth it and would always be.

Only now their positions were reversed, with Maitimo the hesitant and fearful partner, and Findekáno the patient and accepting one.

"That was the first time I felt any desire to do those things," Findekáno said. "You knew that, but I think you can understand me better now. The reason I felt that way was _you_. The intensity of my love did not change, but the way I wanted to express it did.

"And now the way _you_ want to express your love for me has changed, and I am happy to accept what you would give me. Kissing, fucking, whispering sweet nothings, all that romantic nonsense—they were just additional things, ways to show how much we cared for each other, things that felt good, and if they don't feel good or true to us anymore there's no need for them.

"Maybe we will return to them in time, and you'll want me as I came to want you, and maybe you won't. But in the meantime, I can still give you all of myself, and you all of yourself to me." _Don't you feel it now?_ he asked through their bond, and Maitimo shivered. _How intertwined our fëar are? I don't need to have my cock in your arse to feel that. It was there long before we first made love, and it will be there long after._

Maitimo laughed, and sobbed, and wrapped his arms around his beloved Findekáno and held him tight. "We are still... _together_?" he asked. "This is still...there is still an _us_? Even though the...normal things that would make us a, a couple in a relationship are no longer present?"

"Of course," Finno murmured. "We are bound, forever. Russo, my love, my only...we are in a space in-between, now, and we have no need for _normal._ We are _us_ , you are _you_ , and that is beautiful. I love you as I once did, and I love you as I never have before: this feeling, your love for me that I feel when our fëar unite...it is new and beautiful, and it is in my heart also."

"I feel... _broken_ , still," Maitimo whispered. "I'm missing something I used to have."

"You're putting yourself back together." Wordlessly, Finno asked for permission and when Maitimo granted it, he kissed the top of his head. "It's alright if you don't end up the same shape as you once were. It's still you. It's still me."

"You're my Finno," Maitimo said, his voice choked with emotion. "And I'm your Russo."

"Always. Always." Finno finished his second braid and pulled him up into an embrace, so that Maitimo wrapped his whole body around him. "I am your friend and your lover and your cousin and your comrade. I will follow you into anything, and let you go without me when you wish, and welcome you back when you return."

"And I will do the same for you," Maitimo mumbled, pressing his face into Findekáno's shoulder. "I...I don't know what we call this, this relationship we have now, that is so different and still so..." He searched for the words and couldn't find them. "So... _good_."

"It's ours," Finno murmured. "It's us. We don't need a word." He laughed softly, and Maitimo's fëa tingled with joy. "And yet: I know you, Fëanárion. If you want a word for it, you'll coin it yourself."

Maitimo melted into his arms. How was it that an hour ago, less, he had been so full of despair and grief? How was it that he had fooled himself into thinking he did not love Findekáno, just because it was not in the same way? And could he fall back into that darkness again?

"It's..." He trailed off. "I...I can't promise I will always feel worthy of this, of _you_ , Finno. Right now I am caught up in bliss and love, but the shadow of pain is still within my heart, and I have been deeply wounded."

Finno held him, body and spirit, warm and close and reassuring. _I am here for you,_ he said without words. _I will always be here for you._

"But..." Maitimo sighed. "I love you, _I love you_ , and right now...right now I know you are joyous because I am joyous, and—and if my happiness is yours, then I suppose I can believe that I deserve it."

"Good," murmured Finno. "And when you need a reminder, I will be here for you. Your pains are my pains, your joy my joy, and it is as I said: this change is beautiful, and any things I may miss from our past are meaningless compared to the radiance of your smile."

**Author's Note:**

> For a fic with a similar exploration of Mae’s trauma, but focused on gender, check out [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195581) with nonbinary!Mae that I wrote for [Arda Needs More Pride](http://ardaneedsmorepride.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/), and check out the [Tolkien Gen Week](http://tolkiengenweek.tumblr.com/) blog too!


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